no time to say hello, goodbye
by even lovers drown
Summary: AU. In which Jade is dying and Beck plays the mourning stranger. "It's how the world works, he supposes, there are miracles and then there is her."
1. mes chagrins

There's a boy and a girl and perhaps they should have met before but they didn't.

.

She's sitting on a bench at the park, still a bit drowsy after her first chemotherapy session and very aware that she looks like a pedophilic creeper, just staring at strangers' children like that.

Normally she wouldn't be able to stand little kids, what with their squeaky voices, sticky fingers and enough naivety to make her gag, but today she wants to observe them for a bit and take in the normalcy of their pudgy bodies darting around the playground like marbles in that game Cat likes so much.

Images of bulging eyes and bald heads of skinny children had followed her home from her hospital. They just need to be purged from her memory, and then she'll go home.

So that's how she ends up at the park to catch sight of a boy from school in the field beside the big sandbox. He's playing with a little blonde girl who shows off her wobbly cartwheels while a yapping puppy runs in circles around them. (She's thinking that there's few things she hates more than an off leash dog when it comes bounding over to her a few seconds later.)

Oh God, now it's sniffing her and its face is a second away from being underneath her boot before the boy scoops it up with one hand, saying sternly, "Sparkles, _no_."

The blonde girl comes running and hugs the dog to her chest when it's handed to her, shrinking under Jade's glare. "S-Sorry," she sputters, not making eye contact, then sprints away.

"Yeah, sorry," the boy reiterates. He glances after his retreating friend with an amused smile, all like, _wasn't that just adorable_?

He turns back to her. "Jade, right?"

She rolls her eyes that he even has to ask because she's been in this kid's classes for four years. And, okay, her heart sinks slightly when she realizes that she'll never get to be as memorable as she wants to be.

She stares straight ahead. "No, it's Lucy."

All he does is smirk a bit. "I don't usually—actually, I've never seen you around here before."

"Fascinating."

"And you've never struck me as the type to—I'm just wondering what brings you here."

She finally meets his gaze. "Don't worry, Oliver, I'm not going to kidnap any children if that's what you're scared of."

He chuckles under his breath and for some reason still hasn't left yet.

She also might be fuming on the inside because just when she's thinking about losing her long hair and eyebrows and eyelashes, the boy with the most luscious hair in history wants to make conversation.

"Does Vega know that you're two-timing her with a nine year old?" she asks when he sits down beside her.

"Allie? She's my neighbour. She and Tori get along really well."

And Jade thought that her day wasn't getting any more boring than sitting around for a couple of hours with an IV in her hand.

Most of Hollywood Arts considers Beck and Tori the 'It' couple, she supposes. Although there was never anything about them remotely close to interesting at all. No scandals, no public fights, nada. They would only be holding hands whenever they were together, and they'd smile, and maybe kiss, but Jade really couldn't see a relationship being drier than theirs.

New girl meets school heartthrob and they're compatible from the beginning, _the most intriguing story ever, someone go make a movie about it_.

Jade knows she could just ignore these irrelevant people, but she's too busy resenting them (well, Vega more so than Oliver, because it's not like she's been his understudy about twenty times). They've gotten more lead roles than any other student despite being mediocre actors and singers. While Tori overdoes it and reeks of forced emotion, Jade finds Beck too reserved and he uses the same puppy-dog face for pretty much any expression other than happy. (But she's convinced that it's because sometimes he shows up to class as high as a kite.)

And thus Jade can only conclude that they must be bribing Sikowitz with special coconut milk or something because what's so bad about her that she'll never be picked first?

"Jade?"

"What."

"Are you okay? You're, like, zoning out."

She watches a kid push another off of the monkey bars and has to suppress a laugh but her pale hands are still gripping her knees so hard that her knuckles look white and pronounced enough to be actual bone. "I'm sick."

"Oh, bummer. A cold?"

"No, cancer."

"Um—I—um, wow," he stutters. He always stutters, actually. It annoys her.

"I'm so …" he starts but can't finish. From the corner of her eye, it looks like he's trying to find something in between 'I'm sorry' and 'I hope you get better' because he's not really sure of the specifics, so she tells him.

"It's terminal, they say." She shrugs. "But I'm getting palliative chemotherapy."

She doesn't tell him how much time because she doesn't trust the doctors and doesn't want to go around spreading their lies.

"Don't look so sad," she snaps, suddenly irritated. She's thinking that he might turn out to be a good actor after all because he must be lying to her; he shouldn't be feeling the way that he looks. She's never seen him this upset. "My absence won't affect your life at all."

Beck is momentarily taken aback. There's a hint of incredulity in his voice. "Yeah, I'd miss you. And I'm sad for you. It's hard to deal with. You know, Jade, if you ever need anyone to … "

"Yeah, no thanks." She is still staring at the ground. "I don't need your sympathy. You say you'd miss me but," she sighs, "if I were to die after graduation, after you'd forgotten about me, you'd never know. So don't pretend to be sad."

Once she'd wanted to be on Broadway, but her failed auditions and her father's words keep tugging the dream just out of her grasp. She was probably born to give up. Then came that annoying, sudden pain that wasn't the good kind and lasted longer then she thought it would and also the diagnosis and so she figured she might as well.

In contrast, there would be no obstacles in between the It couple and stardom, not for those pretty, generic faces, no. Talent these days, where do you find it, who knows, because no one needs it.

Even the universe must want them to go far.

On her left, Beck is still struggling for words, mouth gaping like a door with a faulty hinge. "But I am." His shoulders slump. "It's unfair."

"At least it's me."

"What does that mean?"

She huffs like she's being forced to explain long division to a child. "No matter who you are, I guarantee that there's someone whom you'd miss more than me if they were the one who was sick."

He's actually thinking about this. She looks at him quizzically.

Jade's already thought about it, though. Her mother and her brother would still have each other. He's the favorite. The normal one who she'd never made any first-time-mother mistakes raising. And her father would have his new wife. And she'd be dead, so she doesn't matter.

She doesn't have any best friends or anything like that; she's never been the type. There are those at school whom she tolerates, whom she admires, whom she despises, whom she ignores, and everyone falls into one of those categories.

There's also Cat, but Cat thinks that rocks grow up to be turtles and calls everyone her friend and has the memory span of a goldfish but a hell of a voice, so Jade doesn't bother putting a label on her.

Beck still looks as uncomfortable as ever. Bless him. "But, still, that doesn't take away from … it wouldn't matter … "

"Look, I'm just trying to be optimistic for you all, okay? There isn't anyone who couldn't move on without me."

"There is," he insists because he was brought up polite and sheltered enough to believe that no one should die that miserable.

"There isn't," she says flatly.

Beck wonders if her life has always been this tragic.

* * *

><p><em>Next chapter will be in Beck's POV.<em>


	2. mes plaisirs

Jade has a stroke the next day.

On Tuesday, Beck finds out from Tori who'd found out from Cat who hadn't come to school Monday. Jade is in the ICU—Tori grimaces here when passing along the story—she hasn't gained consciousness yet. Her doctors aren't sure. The news echoes throughout the hallways, but Jade's absence is invisible by second period to anyone who hadn't seen her so assuredly alone on a park bench not too long ago.

The uncertainty of the future crashes over Beck like a wave. He wanders through the rest of the day disoriented and staring at listless clock hands.

After the last bell, Beck finds Cat. She is pressing her cheek and hands against Jade's locker, either wanting a hug or trying to telepathically communicate to the girl through her belongings.

"Cat? Cat, are you all right?"

Cat slumps to the ground, a scissor's imprint fresh on the side of her face. "That's what Jade used to call me!" she weeps. There's more, but Beck can't understand her through the wailing.

He joins her on the floor as she catches her breath. "You know, I talked to her Sunday."

"What did she say?"

She'd lied, Beck thinks, because here is this girl right in front of him, this girl in pieces, trapped and terrified, and how could Jade have ever assumed that she wouldn't be missed?

.

Once he's sure that Cat can manage her way home, Beck leaves school and follows his normal routine. While his mother is preparing dinner, he sets the table and sweeps the kitchen and asks if there's anything else he can do to help.

No, she waves him off, everything is fine, thank you. Beck looms over his mother's shoulder as she cooks. She turns to face him expectantly, so he recounts the terrible tragedy of Jade West's current condition along with the terrible tragedy of the optimism, or whatever's left of it, dwindling like a dying flame.

A sympathetic smile blooms as her eyes droop at the corners. "I'm sorry to hear that, Beck, did you know her well?"

"I could have." He wants to, at least. "Did you see her in the spring showcase last year, a duet with that girl with the bright red hair?"

His mother stares at him blankly.

"She sang something that went like … " He tries to hum it, feeling self conscious because, well, he can't quite recall it himself and ends up squeaking out a tune not unlike Lady Marmalade. "... you can't win ... give it uuuup."

His mother is now staring at the ceiling, trying to recognize the melody. She ends up apologizing, as it had been a little while ago, honey, and there were so many performances. She admits to only partly remembering Tori's song.

Tori had gotten the finale slot. He tells her that it's okay. "Jade is really talented though."

Then suddenly struck by an idea, Beck rushes to retrieve his yearbook and raises Jade's photo close to his mother's face. She frowns and lowers the book, her aging eyes slightly squinted. Beck has this brief moment of feeling old while his mother scans the page, dolefully murmuring the words "too young."

/

Wednesday, Beck walks into homeroom to overhear his classmates share fond memories of Jade. She was hilarious at improvisation, they all agree, her lower register was phenomenal. He's surprised that she'd helped Andre with some song lyrics. No one mentions how she once ripped Rex's arm off or that she dumped coffee on Tori's head in middle school, but they think about them until someone says, "She was mean, but she didn't—I mean doesn't! Doesn't deserve to die."

Beck frowns at the idea of people deserving to die, but maybe he hasn't seen enough of the world.

Cat suggests making a banner for Jade to show their support, so Beck drives her to a Walmart to pick up materials during their lunch period. She also insists that it's to be black, but she adds pink paint and glitter in assorted colours to the cart.

They take a detour to the pharmacy section after emerging from the stationary isle so that Cat can check her blood pressure. She waves the numbers 118 and 78 on the slip of paper around gleefully. ("I'm healthy!" she announces to a passing sales associate.) Beck offers to treat her to some candy on their way to the cash and she picks up a bottle of vitamin gummies, gives him two once they reach his car.

After school, there's a good size gathering of supportive peers in the library to sign the banner. Sinjin paints a portrait of Jade using instant espresso and glues it in a corner. Beck doubts that notes like "We love you" and "Get better" will lift her mood or convince her that the world cares, but the stuffed clown that Cat's turned into a vampire might. He doubts that Jade will believe that he cares. Most likely she'll claim that it's guilt-induced pity. He'll give anything to convince her it isn't.

.

And after that:

His emotions are still a tricky, tangled mess, but he figures that death isn't complicated: you are until you aren't, the Earth keeps spinning regardless. He's encountered it before when his great aunt passed away to cancer. However, having been seven and simple-minded, he'd only suffered his mother's sadness and a vague feeling of loss.

"Hey, Beck, where are you?" Tori is saying, carrying his thoughts back to her living room.

"Right here." He pokes her in the stomach to prove it.

"You seem distracted."

"Sorry."

She pouts, looking concerned before stretching out on her orange couch and resting her head in his lap. "Thinking about Jade? It's nice that you've been spending time with Cat."

"Yeah, it's been hard on her. I've missed you though. I should have called last night."

"No, it's okay." Tori is upset, he can tell even though she's facing the television. She never actually explains why. He only found out she legitimately hated noogies after a year of believing she'd been playing along. "It's been hard on you too, right?"

"I wish I knew her better."

"Beck," she laughs weakly, "we can't know everyone," and finishing with a pensive tone: "Jade had—she has other people in her life. They knew her, loved her, made her happy."

He tries to believe her, he does, but this past Sunday refuses to let him go. It follows him everywhere, a small child tugging on his hand who wants something but can't ask for it.

"I'm glad I know you," Beck says. Tori squeezes his knee.

.

And after that:

Beck invites Cat over to his RV. They attempt to be productive, willing the mundaneness of schoolwork to swallow their unease momentarily.

"Did you give her the poster?" he questions.

"I gave it to her mom," she sighs and chews on her eraser. "I didn't get to see her."

So they work until Beck feels his brain brimming with tangent lines and limits. "Tell me more about Jade," he asks Cat, slumping on top of his textbooks to listen comfortably.

She doesn't take more than a couple of seconds to start:

Jade's birthday is in July, but she won't bring it up so you can't forget it. She hates the ocean, the salty breeze, the soft roar of the sea, no, Cat doesn't understand it either, but there'd been a dolphin incident. She hates too much, doesn't love enough except for coffee with two sugars. She dreams of the city of neon and chrome. She says the best defense is a good offense. She'll know what to do in case your brother is ever attacked by a Canadian mailman. She doesn't have a dad. He didn't die, he left, she can't call him her father anymore.

"Oh," Beck says. Cat returns to her essay.

He thought he'd known Jade, the bitter actress who sat by the window, defined by her cruel scowl and macabre visions. Her coloured streaks changed more often than she'd spoken to him, yet somehow the same girl who'd made Tori cry into his shoulder is best friends with Cat Valentine, and he needed her here to make sense of it all.

He does know this, though, that despite the unsettling demeanor, she'd had a timeless beauty about her. She reminds him of an old photograph: vignetted and one of a kind, discovered in an attic, in a dilapidated box holding forgotten treasures that had once been important. He can't remember her smile.

Cat taps him timidly on the shoulder. Her voice sounds tired for the first time and there's an emptiness in her eyes that doesn't belong. "Do you think somehow she's happy?"

"How?"

"She didn't want anyone to watch her die. I kept telling her I wouldn't look. I hope she wants to come back, Beck, I hope she wants to see us one last time." I hope, I hope, I hope, Cat keeps repeating throughout the night like a broken doll. He feels her grief in his bones.

.

And after that:

Beck settles into bed, contemplating what he'll say to Jade when she wakes up, dreaming about what she'll say back.

In the morning he's already forgotten most of it, but it doesn't matter anyway because Jade passes away at noon. (Her life, how ever much of it she was allowed to live, may as well have been a movie, but not _that_ kind of movie.)

His shock condenses into a sadness that curls just under his sternum. It's how the world works, he supposes, there are miracles and then there is Jade.

/

He sees her family's faces at the funeral, wishes Jade could see them too. The little boy is very young. When Beck was that age, he could count all his regrets on his fingers.

He moves back under his parents' roof for a month. Time marches forward and eventually he hears of other deaths, mourns them too, always moving on once he can.

Years later, he'll start writing a screenplay about a boy and a girl who perhaps should have met before because then they could have had more time to—to do what, he ends up not knowing, but the possibility of something was always there.

He doesn't live the life he once planned (only sometimes he does, in his head, when he can't sleep and the moonlight is soft and when yesterday is more inviting than tomorrow), but nevertheless, you know, he's still living.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry I lied with that old summary. You should read chasingafterstarlight's Of Linear Timelines and Infinity if you want a good JadeBeck/cancer fic with romance. _

_Originally this chapter was only supposed to be that last part, where she died, but thanks to circuswheel I was inspired to write the rest. Thanks to readingrainbows too for looking the whole thing over and being so wonderfully nice about it._


End file.
